


For Your Thoughts

by Thalius



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: And an Annoying One, Character Study, Clone Wars, Drinking Tea to Cope with Being a Jedi General, Gen, Jedi Council Politics, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Missing Scene, Obi-Wan is a good friend, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25787134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalius/pseuds/Thalius
Summary: Even Jedi have bad days. Depa just happened to be having a lot of them.
Relationships: Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus, Depa Billaba & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 237





	For Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during one of the flashbacks in the Kanan comics, just after Kanan (Caleb) is wounded on his first mission with Depa.

She was having perfectly good relations with the table in front of her. It was sturdy, it did not creak, and it made a good surface to brace her arms against so that she could bury her face in them and not have to look at the world. Styles and Grey didn’t bother her, keeping to themselves in their barracks, knowing well enough by now that she was in no mood to answer administrative questions or socialise. She was definitely sulking, but she decided that she’d earned an extended bout of it with the day—or months, or whole life—she was having.

And her sulking was going extremely well, until she felt a burst of dry, albeit sympathetic, humour to her left.

“Not now, Kenobi,” she muttered, and shifted her head so that she wasn’t leaning directly on her piercing insert. 

“Would you like tea?”

Of course he was ignoring her protests. But she  _ did _ want tea, especially if he was making it, so Depa simply nodded. And he seemed to catch it, because she heard him walk softly over to the kitchenette without further prompting.

“You know,” he mused, and she heard him turn on the water. “I’d like to tell you it gets easier, but I wouldn’t dream of lying to you.”

“And yet you easily countenance patronising me.”

“After years of teasing me for my own Padawan’s travails?” He paused, though clearly not for a response on her part. With a flick, she heard the kettle turn on. “I’d strongly consider it, yes.”

“Consider it more, then,” she replied. “Because you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“Thank you. May I sit?”

“No.”

“Hm.” The table shifted beneath her, and she lifted her head up to glare at him. He was leaning against the edge of it, arms crossed, and with that damned ever-present smirk on his face, as if he found the world perpetually hilarious, but only he was sharp enough to take notice.

“If you want to lecture me,” she began, “don’t bother. I’m already doing that plenty in my own head.”

Obi-Wan gave a hurt look. “Hardly, my dear,” he replied, and sobered a little. “You’ve had quite the day.”

“That’s... a way to describe it, yes.” 

He pursed his lips, not mentioning her tone. “How is Caleb doing?”

“He’ll be fine,” she said with a sigh, but it felt good to say. She needed the reminder. “Master Vokara Che has worked her magic on him. He just needs rest, now. And time.” Hopefully not as much time as she’d needed.

Obi-Wan nodded, looking genuinely relieved. “That’s a relief to hear. He’s a good boy, if bold.”

“And talkative,” she added, making him laugh quietly.

“Yes. I’m loathe to tell students to ask less questions during lessons, but I’ve had to do it with him a few times. It sounds like he’s no different on a battlefield.”

“He doesn’t understand that he’s on a battlefield to begin with,” she said, and then frowned when Obi-Wan shifted where he stood. “Oh, sit down already, why don’t you. It’s clear you’re not going to leave me alone.”

“Once the kettle’s boiled,” was all he said, still smiling.

He was quiet while he fixed them both a cup of tea, giving Depa time to sort through her thoughts. Which she’d been doing already, but Kenobi had a way of navigating another person’s problems in an entirely unorthodox way, so she made some adjustments. He would not, she knew, ask her how she was feeling; he would wait until she was sufficiently disarmed by his wit for her to offer up that information freely, all the while giving her the impression she’d come up with the idea in the first place. It would annoy her more if he were less skilled at it.

He sat himself down in a nearby chair, settling one of two cups in front of her on the table. She accepted it with a grateful, silent nod, and closed her eyes briefly as she took a sip.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she murmured, savouring the warmth that began to bloom in her chest as she drank. “I always make it too strong.”

“A limited trick, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “The only place in the galaxy with decent tea is the Temple; I can’t make a good cup anywhere else.”

Depa considered her reflection seriously in the dark, bitter drink, warming her hands around the fine ceramic mug. In her periphery, she saw him slide something else her way; looking up, she found a single Republic credit on the table.

“For your thoughts,” he explained.

She smoothed a finger over it, raising a brow. “You’re paying people to talk to you now? Are you that desperate?”

His mouth twitched. “Not yet. But you look like you need it.”

With a flick of her finger she sent it sliding back across the table at him. He caught it easily, saving his teacup from being rattled by it. “I need a vacation,” she told him. “And barring that, perhaps another coma will help. A credit won’t get me either of those.”

Obi-Wan sobered again at the mention of her health. “No one is judging you for this, Depa. It’s just a very unfortunate string of events.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Plenty of people are judging. You attended the last Council meeting.”

“Well,  _ I  _ don’t judge you for it,” he clarified. “And I think I can say with confidence that I understand what you’re going through, more than most.”

She shook her head. “I still have no idea how you raised that boy. If Caleb is a tenth as unruly as Anakin was, I’ll do myself a favour and leave the Order now.”

“Is.”

She looked up. “What?”

“Anakin  _ is _ unruly,” he explained, smiling fondly. “It’s not a thing they grow out of, in my experience.”

“How lovely.” She took a long drink of her tea. “You may have to make me another one of these.”

“Of course. My point is, though,” he continued, nudging the credit back and forth with a finger. It was a fiddling, frivolous use of the Force one wasn’t meant to indulge in—at least in front of Padawans. “That you will overcome it. The judgement from the Council will not kill you, though it sometimes will feel as if it might.”

She shrugged. “I’m already branded as The Disappointment. It can’t get much worse.” Depa ran a hand over her face. “No, that’s not my concern. My concern is whether or not I’m up to the task of training Caleb.”

“Likely not,” he replied, and she straightened in surprise. “You will get things wrong, and you will fail. But you will do it anyway.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging,” she reminded him.

He laughed. “I did say I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Well, maybe you’re just projecting.” She hid her smile over the rim of her cup. “I did watch you train Anakin, if you recall.”

“You never let me forget it,” he replied softly.

Her comm beeped then, interrupting them both, and she looked down at the message that accompanied the chime; an update from Master Vokara, only a single sentence long:  _ Caleb is awake, and he is asking for you. _

Depa took another deep drink of her tea, and frowned when she saw that she’d nearly emptied her cup already. “I must go,” she murmured, and quickly replied that she would be there in a moment.

“Caleb?”

“Yes. He wants to speak with me.” 

“He’s in good spirits already, sounds like.” Obi-Wan took another sip of his tea. “You’re in luck. Anakin used to sulk about his injuries, no matter how minor.”

She froze then, he’d fingers still hovering over the pad of her comm. She’d already responded to Vokara. It was too late to say she was busy.

Obi-Wan easily picked up on her sudden hesitation. “You don’t want to go?” 

“I don’t know what to say to him,” she replied, looking back up at him. “An apology seems almost rude.”

“He’ll likely think you’re upset with him,” he said. “I would assure him otherwise.”

She balked. “Why would I ever be upset with him? He’s just a boy.” 

Obi-Wan set his cup down, splaying his hands in a shrugging gesture. “It’s what they tend to assume,” he replied. “This was his first test with you. He’ll think he failed.”

She shook her head. “The opposite is true. The fault lies with me.”

“Then tell him that,” he said quietly. His smile was softer now, more kind. “He will admire you for it.”

What a horrifying thought. Depa took a deep breath, palms pressed flat on the table as she prepared herself. Her Padawan could not sense her disquiet, or her turmoil; she must only project the utmost calm.

She felt Kenobi again then, offering a brush of serenity. With a smile she accepted the small nudge from his seemingly endless well of grace, and opened her eyes to find him watching her.

“Thank you,” she said finally, and his smile warmed.

“Anytime,” he murmured. Then he pushed his cup in her direction with a knuckle. “You can take mine with you, if you like.”

“No, I’ll come back here after. You can make me a fresh one.”

He raised a brow as she stood up from the table. “I do have other duties, you know.”

“But you’ll be in the kitchen when I return,” she replied, grabbing her empty cup and walking over to set it down on the counter. “Have your commander bring over your paperwork.”

“The day Cody becomes my errand boy is the day he suffocates me in my sleep,” he said behind her.

“You’re resourceful,” Depa said confidently, turning back to look at him. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” With a curl of her hand, she retrieved the credit he’d been toying with on the table, and it sailed through the air to slot easily into her palm.

Kenobi turned in surprise. “Are they not paying you well enough, Master Billaba?”

“It’s for my vacation fund,” she replied. “And no, I’m very comfortable, but I relish the opportunity to inconvenience you. Even if it’s only one credit at a time,” she added, waving it at him.

He smiled as he watched her make for the door. “You are a wonderful friend.”

“The annoyance is mutual!” she called back, and the kitchen doors shut a moment too late to cut off his laugh in time.

* * *

The medical bay was quiet when she arrived. A good thing, she thought; Jedi should not come to find this place familiar.

Master Vokara was waiting for her at the front entrance, and Depa bowed to her on approach. “Master,” she said warmly, and smiled at the woman. “Thank you for your care.”

“And thank you for your punctuality,” Vokara replied, leading her inside the bay.

Depa frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” Vokara replied. “But your Padawan talks too much for his own good.”

The healer led them past banks of bacta tanks, and Depa spotted the one she’d been pickling in for the past half year with a distasteful frown. All of them were empty now; she’d been the last one. 

She hurried past them, avoiding any desire to linger. The front of the medical bay housed the more intensive care equipment and rooms; they brushed past all of that and headed for the beds in the back. Vokara left her quickly after that, only offering a parting nod.

It was easy to find Caleb in the rows of beds, because he was the only one there. His new clone guardian—Stance, Depa recalled was his name now—sat by his bed, talking quietly with him. 

Something in her chest squeezed painfully at the sight. She hoped desperately she could protect the both of them.

“Master!” Caleb exclaimed upon seeing her, and began to sit up in bed. Stance pressed a hand to his shoulder, keeping the boy leaned back on his pillows.

“Caleb,” she said warmly, walking quickly to his side. She knelt down by the edge of the mattress opposite Stance, and took one of his little hands in her own. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, I think,” he said cautiously, and then looked down at his bandaged shoulder. “It hurts a lot less now.”

“That’s good.” She looked at Stance, saw the worry on his brow. “I owe you a great debt, trooper. And perhaps another commendation.”

He waved her off. “Just doing my duty, sir. And this kid’s pretty easy to look after.”

“I’m not a kid,” Caleb reminded him. Stance laughed.

“Yeah? Can’t do much to stop me from calling you that right now though, eh?”

Depa placed a hand on Caleb’s arm to get his attention—and to keep him calm. He looked back at her, expression sobering. “Master Vokara said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Oh, yeah.” He frowned down at his lap, the bridge of his broad nose scrunching. One of his hands found a pull in the blanket and began to pick at it.

“Just say it like we practiced,” Stance said in a low tone. “It’s okay.”

Depa waited patiently, watching the boy get his thoughts in order. Then Caleb heaved a shallow sigh, careful not to disturb his blaster wounds.

“Um,” he began, and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Master. About what happened.”

_ I hate how often you prove to be right, Kenobi. _ Depa squeezed his arm. “Why are you apologising?”

Caleb looked up, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Because,” he said, and gestured at her. His other arm housed an IV, and the cord wobbled at the movement. “I’m supposed to be your second in command, and I got hurt.”

“We will work on your battlefield acumen and etiquette,” Depa told him, and Caleb gave her a sheepish look. “But you should not be sorry for being hurt.”  _ I should be sorry for bringing a boy to war. Another thing the Council finds my dissent on annoying. _

“Okay.”

“And now it is my turn to apologise to you,” she said, and even Stance looked surprised at that.

“What?” Caleb asked. “But you’re a Master. Masters don’t apologise to Padawans.”

Depa smiled. “And who told you that?

“Japper,” he replied, and Depa laughed.

“That’s because Japper’s Master is Toroline Whit. That man has never said sorry to anybody about anything in his life.”

Caleb’s eyes widened and he looked around the medbay, a flush of pleasure on his cheeks at the fact that he was being privileged with Temple gossip. A smile wobbled at his mouth.

“You must not tell him I said that,” Depa urged him, and squeezed his arm again to punctuate her point. “Caleb?”

“Yes, Master,” he replied, but there was still a grin on his face.

“Now, I was apologising to you—”

“I still don’t understand,” he interrupted. “For what?”

“Listen, and I will tell you,” she said forcefully, and he shrunk back against his pillows. Depa sighed, and looked down at their linked hands. “I’m sorry for not protecting you. It was foolish of me to bring you to the front so quickly. Your injuries are a failure of judgement on my part, not a lack of skill on yours.”

Caleb glanced back at Stance, and then to her. “But I’ll be coming with you again, right?” he asked. “You’re not leaving me in the Temple, are you?”

“I haven’t decided that yet,” she responded, and saw his spirits fall. “It will depend on what my next assignment is, and how quickly you recover. Regardless, before you accompany me and the 89th again, we will have to review your training. But this isn’t a punishment,” she added, seeing how morose he got with each word she spoke. “Do you understand? This is to keep you safe, Caleb Dume. You have great promise in you. It is my duty to not let that go to waste.”

He nodded his head silently, still looking upset. She glanced back at Stance. “And perhaps your new battle-hardened friend can help with that training,” she offered.

Caleb perked up a little, looking at the trooper. “You mean with drill sets?”

“He won’t be able to teach you lightsaber form, I’m afraid,” Depa said dryly. “But he would certainly be useful with general combat training. How does that sound to you, trooper?”

“You mean I get to shoot stun bolts at the little bugger?” he asked, a grin on his face. “Sounds like a lot of fun, General.”

“I’m not a—a bugger—”

“I can call you kid instead if you want.”

“Don’t call me anything!”

“Not even your name?”

Depa stood up from Caleb’s bed as the two continued to argue, recognising that it was a good time to leave him now. She had said to him what she needed to, and he was well looked after in this place.

Her Padawan didn’t notice her departure until she was almost at the door leading out into the front room, and his bickering with Stance finally waned.

“Wait!” he called, and shoved at Stance’s shoulder to get him to be quiet. “Where are you going, Master?”

“To get a cup of tea,” she replied, turning back to him. “It seems you’ve more than enough company in here.”

“Oh.” Caleb quieted for a moment, thinking again. She wondered if she’d ever see steam come out of his ears from straining so much. “So that’s it? I’m not in trouble?”

“Your wounds are trouble enough,” she said, smiling. “But no. I will leave you to rest. In the morning we can discuss your training.”

He nodded. “Okay. Um.” Caleb hesitated then, looking between her and Stance before meeting her eyes. “Thank you, Master.”

Depa bowed. “You are very welcome, Caleb. Be sure to use your library voice in here, and do not disturb Master Vokara, because you  _ will  _ be in trouble if you do.”

He grinned and gave her a thumbs up. “I can do that.”

She was about to leave again when she remembered herself, and stopped for another moment. “I almost forgot.”

“What?”

Depa produced the credit Kenobi had given her earlier, retrieving it from her pocket. With a flick she sent it leisurely across the room, and Caleb held out his hands so that it fell gently into his palms.

“A credit?” he asked, looking up at her. “For what?”

“Your thoughts,” she replied with a smile, her hand on the door.

“I don’t understand.”

She stepped out of the room, watching him frown down at the credit. “Neither do I.”


End file.
